


Whiskey drunk

by imasleepytea



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: AU, Emails, Fluff, Gay Yearning Hours, Love Quotes, M/M, Whiskey - Freeform, Yearning, bourbon vs scotch discourse, dr henry, the EMAILS are the best bit, they miss each other, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imasleepytea/pseuds/imasleepytea
Summary: Emails back and forth from Alex and Henry. Somewhere between the White House finding out and the rest of the world. Also Henry studies English at doctorate level bc he does what makes him, not the crown happy.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	Whiskey drunk

Alex, 

I sleep my best when you hold me in your arms; cradling me close into your chest, your nose tickling the top of my head. It comforts me to know that, despite the height disadvantage I may hold over you, that you get to be taller than me when we sleep. It comforts me that you are always trying to protect me. I have grown accustomed to fitful nights of sleep but the ones I spend in your arms are always nights that I sleep through, and peacefully so. 

I have been consuming laphroaig this fine evening, in celebration of my acceptance into Cambridge for my postgraduate. To be a prince and a doctor is a simply wonderful thought, even if my doctorate is simply in British and American Romantic literature, something that Philip doesn’t think to be appropriate for a member of the royal family. I imagine that he would have expected me to have celebrated my acceptance with something more fitting to the royal family than a £40 bottle of whiskey, but that is his prerogative. Also, it truly is splendid to taunt him, even without his awareness. 

I know that you are generally more appreciative of a bourbon, which I guess is rightly so, especially now that you’re hoping to specialise in international law. You wouldn’t want to seem that you were favouring my great nation over your own. Whenever I drink a scotch, I like to imagine that you are here, next to me, as you were but two days ago. In my mind, you drink a honey bourbon, lounging on my chaise lounge with a few millimetres of ankle showing. I am sat on the floor next to you, and we are both laughing as I attempt to cover your ankle, as I tell you the ridiculous customs of Britain in days gone by, when it was seen inappropriate in high Victorian society to see or make mention to ankles, or even to legs. I would graze your ankle with my fingertips as I attempted to cover it with your trousers, but to no avail as your contemporary American trousers simply do not conform to the expectations of high Victorian society. You would be laughing, and eventually I would admit defeat, instead covering your ankle with my mouth. You would shiver under my lips and slide down to meet me on the floor. Our lips would meet and on them would mingle the taste of smoke and honey, the great meeting of our two nations. 

I miss you greatly and truly,   
Your dear Henry

Henry, 

I can never hope to match your beautiful words, but if you send me one more email in such detail, I’m gonna hop on a fucking plane and we will enact that scenario. I assume it ends in sex. God I miss having sex with you. It’s been two days Henry. Two. I am so proud of you for getting into Cambridge. I’m excited to call you doctor. Maybe I should join you there, do they take American transfer students who just really love the fucking beautiful prince of their fucking beautifu nation? Find out for me will you baby?  
I’m glad that you like me being taller than you when we sleep. I wish I was taller than you always. Although the height advantage you hold over me is hot. When you tilt my face up to yours I am always reminded of why I fell for you.  
I also love you when you are drunk. You’re so open and candid about your feelings. Also so fucking eloquent. How do you manage it? I guess I could say you speak like the queen of bloody England. (sorry I have been drinking bourbon so that I can imagine myself in that scenario so now I think I am funny.) You get more eloquent and well spoken the more you drink and I wish you knew the things it does to me.   
Also I laughed so hard I fell out of bed at the idea that legs were an inappropriate topic for the Victorians. What is wrong with your country? I looked it up to check it was true and it really is. Did you know that was the point of tablecloths? I read that on Horrible Histories wiki. I don’t really know what Horrible Histories is but I want to watch it while I lie on your chest. 

Shit I love you, I really hope you know that  
Alex xxxxx

Alex, 

When we write I am always reminded of this quote “when I am with him, smoking or talking quietly ahead, or whatever it may be, I see, beyond my own happiness and intimacy occasional glimpses of the happiness of 1000s of others whose names I shall never hear, and know that there is a great recorded history.” That is from a letter from E.M. Forster to his lover and it makes me cry whenever I think about it. I hate how few people know of him as one of the great homosexuals of Britain. I also hate to think that others may think of us as simply good friends. That I may not go down in history as the gay prince I am. Maybe we should let the world now. I am excited for your mother to win the election so we can begin the process of coming out to the world.  
I will find out about Cambridge for you.

Much love as always,   
From your gay prince

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all our letters could be published in the future in a more enlightened time. Then all the world could see how in love we are.” (Gordon Bowsher to Gilbert Bradley, 1940s)

Henry,   
It will be a beautiful thing when we tell the world. Then I can write your biography and talk about your beautiful body and mind and your beautiful muscles. I doubt I would be allowed to publish it. I imagine it would not be allowed to be published. For a country that thought table legs were erotic, I think my description of your eyes, let alone your dick, might actually get me killed. If I were allowed to publish it though, I would start with this quote “if this little book should see the light after its 100 years of entombment, I would like its readers to know that the author was a lover of [his] own sex”. Laura De Force Gordon 1879  
I fucking love and miss you and your voice baby,   
Alex   
“You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes or their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear." Oscar Wilde


End file.
